


hoping that the whole makes sense

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Series: Love and Other Fairytales [13]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Gaslighting, M/M, Manipulation, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of execution, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-12 22:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18455558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: Is it still a secret if you don't know you're keeping it?(It is. God, it is)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Love by Jared Singer

Logan was not a “jittery” person. He was calm, precise – he had to be. Losing control of his emotions tended to result in a variety of unfortunate accidents and therefore it was Logan’s responsibility to keep them in check.

The fact that he never attempted to do homework on the nights of the full moon was irrelevant. It was for Thomas’s benefit, not his own. Thomas always spent the evening wound tight as a spring, and he never slept unless it was unintentional. If Logan did not spend the evening soothing him, Thomas was liable to work himself into a truly disastrous state.

And lastly, the fact that Logan had never tried to say any of this out loud where there might, theoretically, be potential for him to be cut off by his ridiculous physiology, also meant nothing.

They were both in Logan’s bed, Logan against the headboard and Thomas laying on his stomach across Logan’s feet. Logan could not imagine it was a comfortable position, but Thomas seemed content enough. He didn’t squirm or fidget – he had his chin resting on his folded arms and his eyes focused on the wall.

“Hey, Berry?” he said.

Logan startled.

“Yes?”

“Is there something you wanna tell me?” Thomas said, hesitant.

Logan tilted his head, confused.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” said Thomas wearily, “It’s just that your headboard has started growing Christmas roses,”

Baffled, Logan turned, and sure enough, there were dozens of hellebore blossoms growing around his head, pink and white and violet and few pale green. Logan scowled.

“It’s a new one,” said Thomas dryly.

“Correct,” grumbled Logan, “And yet again, a poison,”

Thomas winced.

“So we have hyacinth when you cry, monkshood when you’re angry and Christmas roses when…?”

“Why does it matter?” Logan snapped petulantly, “I have no desire to analyze the circumstances of this… metaphorical floral mood ring,”

“Well it’s not like you give the rest of us much else to go on!” Thomas said, exasperated.

Instead of responding, Logan began furiously yanking the roots of the flowers from the head board.

Thomas groaned in frustration and scrubbed his hands down his face.

“I just- I feel like barely know you anymore,” he said weakly.

Logan paused.

“We used to tell each other everything, whenever something was going on, both of us, and now I feel like trying to get you to tell me  _anything_  is like pulling teeth,” he continued, “And  _today,_ just. Logan, what were you  _thinking_?”

“I explained,” said Logan. “I recognized the dubious morality of my actions,”

“Recognized it, but didn’t care?” said Thomas, and his voice was becoming a touch hysterical, “Because that’s not. That’s not better,”

“I apologized as best I could,”

“An apology doesn’t mean anything if you’re just gonna do it again!”

“If it makes you  _feel_  any better,” Logan spat nastily, “I doubt I’ll ever be in close enough physical proximity to Patton  _to_  do it again,”

“Oh my goodness  _gracious_  that’s my  _point_ , you  _dense_ -”

Thomas clamored off the bed, striding to the door and throwing it open.

“You are so worried about losing all of us,” he said, and his voice was colder than Logan had ever heard it, “That you’re going to push everybody away before we’re even gone,”

And then he shut the door in such a tightly controlled way it was obvious he wanted to slam it.

Logan stared at the door, his throat tightening and his stomach churning.

Something purple fluttered to the bed, and Logan’s eyes followed the spot of color. The Christmas roses laid around him, limp from being forcibly yanked from the headboard. More flowers were growing in their place.

But they weren’t hellebore. This time, they were hyacinth.

* * *

Roman hovered, just inside in the trees behind Logan’s house. It was barely spring and there was next to no foliage to hide him, so he’d found a dense thicket of brambles to hunker down behind.

He had no idea if Mr. and Mrs. Sanders knew Logan went to the full moon revels – though he sincerely doubted it – but even if they  _did_ , Roman doubted they be on board with  _Roman_  going. And the last thing he needed was for them to call Mamaw after he went to all the trouble of sneaking out without her noticing.

Not that she seemed to be very concerned about where he was lately anyway.

As the sun began to set, Roman saw movement in the window of Logan’s room. It opened, and in a surprisingly graceful move, Logan stepped onto the branch right outside it just as if he was walking down a sidewalk. It bent underneath him, almost like it was consciously lowering him to the ground, and Logan took one more step and landed in the grass.

He paused then, cocking his head like he was listening for something. When he seemed satisfied by whatever he heard, he strode into the trees

He was moving fairly quickly, and Roman didn’t really know how to get there – if he even  _could_  – without Logan, so once he was fairly certain nobody would see them out the back windows, he called out, a little quieter than he normally would have.

“Logan?”

Logan jumped like he’d stuck his finger in an electric socket.

“ _Marie Curie and her fucking notebook!”_

It took Logan a moment to recover, and Roman hesitated, baffled.

“Sorry?” he said.

“Where did you  _come from_?” demanded Logan.

“Uhhhh, well, you see, when a mama hillbilly and a dad-”

“Don’t be obtuse,” Logan snapped, “How did you sneak up on me?”

Roman shrugged helplessly.

“Hate to break it to you, Startles Darwin, but I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. I was only sitting here, behind the bush – there was nothing particularly clandestine about it,”

Logan eyed him warily.

“… I will admit,” he said, voice carefully even, “I was not expecting you to still be coming,”

Roman winced.

“In fact, I was fairly certain you and Patton would not be speaking to me in the future at all,”

Roman rubbed the back of his neck.

“I-”

There was a lot of things Roman could have said. That he understood, for one. How could he hold Logan to a higher standard than he did himself? Thinking they knew the best solution and not consulting anybody else before doing it was an character flaw they  _definitely_  had in common.

Logan had hurt Patton; Roman could still see Patton’s betrayed expression in his mind’s eye.

But the picture wavered, and became Logan’s; Roman could practically feel the confession retreat back into his heart.

“It’s… really important that I go to this,” he said lamely.

Logan shrunk in on himself, so slightly Roman definitely wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t acutely aware of everything about Logan near-constantly. Roman’s hand was reaching out before he could stop it.

But Logan was already turning away, walking into the underbrush.

“Fine. Follow me,”

Roman did.

The woods were as recognizable as they ever were – and Roman was more familiar with them than most. But the longer they walked, the stranger it became. The trees grew more bent and gnarled; they started to go out of season, some in full spring bloom, others in lush summer green and even a few in a riot of autumn fire.

Logan kept throwing what he probably thought were subtle glances back at Roman, and his shoulders were climbing higher and higher. Roman took a moment to feel spectacularly guilty for putting Logan in such a position.

The air was thick with tension, nearly cloying. Roman opened his mouth, clueless as to what he was going to say, but knowing he couldn’t bear the oppressive silence a second longer.

But the voice that broke the quiet was not his.

“Turn back,”

Roman’s blood froze.

The voice, a girl’s, was familiar, and strangely doubled, like a barely noticeable echo. Bizarrelyfamiliar, so much so that it instantly set his teeth on edge and his mind scrambling for where he’d heard it before.

“Turn around, Roman,”

Roman spun towards the voice, heart hammering, but there was nobody there. It was young, his own age probably, and distinctly irritated. Whoever she was, she was angry.

“You could try cooperating for once in your life,” she said dryly.

Logan finally seemed to notice that Roman had stopped dead. He turned back, frowning and taking a few steps back toward him.

“Roman? Is something the matter?”

Roman stared, bewildered.

“You can’t  _hear that?_ ”

Because other than the dual quality of it – almost like a delayed speaker – the voice didn’t actually sound supernatural. It really just sounded like someone talking to him. The only other unnatural thing about it was that there didn’t seem to be anybody actually there.

“Hear what?”

“No, he can’t,” said the voice wearily. “Can we please skip this?”

“Who are you?” Roman asked the open air.

“Someone trying to stop you from making a huge mistake,” she answered. “You aren’t ready,”

“Ready for what?” he demanded.

“Telling you would defeat the purpose of informing you you aren’t ready, dumbass,” she said dryly.

“Roman, who are you talking to?” said Logan, who was beginning to look very alarmed.

“I’m not taking directions from someone who won’t even show herself,” said Roman, trying to infuse his voice with all the bravado he definitely wasn’t actually feeling.

There was a long pause – he couldn’t hear a sigh, but somehow he definitely felt like there was one.

“Trust me when I say, it will be better for  _everyone_  if you just go _home_  and go to  _sleep_ ,” she said quietly.

“I think not trusting disembodied voices is the most basic of self-preservation skills, so no thank you,”

She  _did_  sigh then.

“You always did have to make everything as difficult as possible,” she said, resigned and a little bitter.

“You never listen. Not to me, not to May, not Patton or Logan – it’s _exhausting_ ,” she spat

Roman whirled in a circle once more, trying to pinpoint where the voice was coming from, squinting through the tree trunks and the dim twilight for any indication of a body, a silhouette or a flash of color. But there was nothing.

“Who  _are_  you?” he demanded again.

There was no response.

“Roman?” said Logan, his voice significantly higher than it normally was.

Roman turned to him.

“You really couldn’t hear her?”

“I heard nothing except you making nonsensical comments to thin air,” said Logan tightly.

Roman felt like his head was split clean down the middle. On the one hand, he hadn’t been lying; not trusting disembodied voice was pretty much rule number one, no matter  _what_  handbook you were reading.

But on the other – he already  _knew_  this was a pretty terrible idea. And he knew that voice, as well, though no matter how much he tried to wrack his brain he couldn’t recall from where. It was like trying catch fish with his bare hands – every time he brushed against what felt like and answer, it slipped out of his reach, leaving him empty-handed and unbearably frustrated.

Roman looked around once more, but when he still didn’t see anything he squared his shoulders and started forward again.

“Nothing for it, I guess,”

“Are you  _insane_?” demanded Logan. “You honestly think it is a good idea to follow through with this plan when you are either hallucinating or being tailed by some kind of supernatural being that interacts exclusively with you?”

“I don’t really have a choice,” said Roman.

“For reasons you have yet to explain to me,” said Logan.

“I-” Roman let out a short scream of frustration, “I said I’d tell you and I  _will_. But I’m not even sure what’s going on myself! I have to figure this out first!”

Logan’s mouth turned down in distaste.

“… Fine,” he spat, “Can you at least  _attempt_  to listen to me when we are there? I know cooperation is not one of your strong suits,”

“You’re one to talk,” Roman snarked back, “But yes, fine, whatever,”

Logan didn’t look like he believed him in the slightest, but he did look rather resigned to his fate anyway.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he sighed, exasperated. He gestured for Roman to follow, and this time he walked slower staying much closer than he’d been before.

It was several minutes later, as the flickering orange glow of a bonfire came just in sight, that Roman’s heart twisted with realization.

It was never pleasant to hear something like that from a friend; but it was especially depressing when you knew they believed it to be true.

But before he could say anything, Logan visibly steadied himself, took Roman by the hand, and led him into the revel.

He kept a firm grip on Roman’s hand as they walked through the clearing. His hand was cool but not unbearably so, and every time another fae moved too close Logan gave Roman’s hand a reassuring squeeze, guiding Roman so Logan was between him and everyone else. Now was a supremely terrible time for Roman to be distracted by how gay he was but such was his lot in life.

Logan had them skirting around the edges of the crowd of fae, obviously trying to keep Roman out of anyone’s direct line of sight. But despite his best efforts, they were definitely being noticed – whispers and giggles began to pick up, voices faint and amused.

_Look at that._

_He’s brought a plaything, how quaint._

_Is that who I think it is?_

Roman zeroed in on that comment, but Logan was leading him too quickly for him to pinpoint it. He looked around for the voice, but what he ended up focusing on was the raised dais on the other end of the clearing.

The Serpent King sat atop it, glaring directly at him.

Roman made some kind of terrified noise and jerked his head forward, almost involuntarily pressing closer to Logan.

“What’s wrong?” Logan demanded immediately, turning back toward Roman and shifting so Logan was between Roman and most of the crowd. “What happened?”

“Nothing!” Roman lied, poorly.

Logan gritted his teeth in obvious frustration. He took another step closer, ducking in so they were nearly nose to nose, and Roman’s heart was determined to be hammering for all the wrong reasons, apparently.

“How can you  _possibly_ expect me to get both of us through this idiotic venture alive if you refuse to-”

“Well, isn’t the cuckoo in a mood,”

Logan tensed, whirling on the fae who spoke – he wore light armor, and Roman eyed the blade at his hip warily. Logan was scowling furiously.

“We are not interested in conversing with you,” he spat, moving to pull Roman away.

“Easy, Snowmelt,” mocked the knight, and Roman felt a flash of confusion when Logan flinched, “I’m not here for you anyway,”

Logan  _snarled,_ territorial and completely inhuman, which should have been terrifying but instead just made something flip in Roman’s stomach and his cheeks burn bright red.

The knight grinned, totally unconcerned, and turned to look at Roman.

“The king wants to see  _him_ ,” he said sweetly, “So looks like you’ll just have to deal, Snowmelt,”

Roman resisted the urge to bolt like a startled rabbit, but only barely. He squared his shoulders, squeezed Logan’s hand once, and then dropped it.

“It’ll be fine,” he muttered, but it didn’t do anything to mitigate the panic on Logan’s face.

His eyes darted between Roman and the knight, but he and Roman both knew there was nothing he could do.

“… Be  _careful_ ,” Logan finally said – begged, really – and Roman gave him the most reassuring smile he could manage which, unfortunately, probably wasn’t very reassuring at all.

The knight rolled his eyes.

“If anyone needs to be careful tonight, it’s definitely  _you,_ Snowmelt,”

Roman and Logan exchanged baffled looks, but before they could say anything else, the knight had walked away, gesturing impatiently for Roman to follow.

The walk across the clearing felt like marching towards a firing squad. It didn’t help that he was still being stared at, the faces around him ranging from amusement to outright bafflement, neither of which made sense.

As they approached the dais, the Serpent King stood, turned, and made his way down the steps to the back of it. Roman felt another wave of confusion when the knight gestured for Roman to follow the king into the curtained off area, but made no move to go in himself.

Roman glanced back at Logan, who hadn’t moved from the spot he was in and was still staring intently at him, looking like he’d rather have Roman do just about anything that go out of his line of sight. Roman winced and broke their eye contact, clenched his fists and pushed back into curtained space.

There had to be some kind of magic on this area, Roman thought – instantly the sound of the crowd and the music were muffled, as if he’d walked into an actual room rather than just past what amounted to a sheet hung on a rope. Standing next to a smaller fire with his arms crossed, still glaring, was the Serpent King.

“You don’t listen very well, do you my dear?” he said sharply.

Roman felt distinctly wrong-footed. What kind of opening statement was that?

The Serpent King sighed, exasperated. He stalked forward and Roman tensed, but he felt rooted to the spot, unable to run.

“I’ve repeatedly told you not to come here on the Full Moon, and not only did you ignore me, you showed up  _with the changeling_ ,”

Roman barely had moment to think that he’d had exactly one conversation with the Serpent King – and considering Roman vividly relived it almost constantly, he was fairly certain the king had said no such thing – but the Serpent King was already talking again.

“You are by far the most disobedient pet I have,” he said, but his voice had taken on a strange note. Irritated, but not angry, or even vindictive. In fact, he sounded almost –  _fond?_

“Whatever,” he continued, either not caring or not noticing that Roman was staring at him in absolute bewilderment, “I’m sure I’ll figure out some way to deal with him,”

That spurred Roman to action, heart seizing with fear at whatever the Serpent King intended to do to Logan – he lurched forward and grabbed the Serpent King’s sleeve.

He was not expecting the Serpent King to grin, raising his hands to cup Roman’s face.

“Oh, fine,” he said, “I suppose it has been days since I’ve seen you,”

Nothing about this conversation made sense – if it could be called a conversation, seeing as Roman had done nothing but stare, gobsmacked – but it didn’t compare even slightly to what happened next, which was that the Serpent King pulled Roman forward and kissed him.

Roman went absolutely still, petrified. His mind was spinning, grasping at something that seemed just out of reach.

This was familiar.  _Too_  familiar – the feel of the king’s cool lips and his hands on Roman’s jaw – the smell of his clothes and the fire, all of it. This had happened before, Roman was sure of it. He knew this wasn’t the first time the Serpent king had kissed him, but it obviously wasn’t the second either, or even the third or fourth.

Half of him still felt rooted to the spot, but growing louder and louder was some kind of bizarre sense of calm, a whisper in the back of his brain,  _relax, just relax, calm down, it’s fine-_

The king finally seemed to notice that Roman was frozen to the spot, because he drew back, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Roman was glad for it, because he was horrified to realize that, with that insistent voice in his head, he was fairly certain he’d just been about to kiss the king  _back_.

“Is there a problem?” the king drawled.

Roman felt like the answer was just on tip of his tongue, familiar again, like muscle memory,  _what do you mean_ _, don’t be silly, just kiss me-_

Roman threw himself backwards, because he was  _definitely_ about to kiss the king that time, and the thought alone made his stomach revolt with nausea.

The Serpent King let him slip out of his arms with very little resistance. He continued to peer curiously at Roman.

And then a slow smile spread across his face.

“I see,” he said, tilting his head in a clearly amused way, “You are not my Roman, are you?”

_What a silly question, who else could I possibly belong to-_

“I’m not anyone’s anything!” said Roman, but the fact that his voice and hands were both still shaking probably ruined the defiance of it.

The Serpent King laughed.

“You’re the Roman of the daytime,” he said, waving his hand dismissively, “I was hoping to put that off for at least another few months, but of course you just can’t stay away from trouble, can you?”

Roman thought fleetingly of the voice in the woods and shuddered.

The Serpent King stepped forward and grabbed Roman’s hand, ignoring Roman’s attempts to get away,  pulling him towards the fire and gesturing for him to sit.

“Calm down, darling, I won’t kiss you again until you ask,”

_Until, he said_ , thought Roman hysterically.  _Until, not unless._

“I’m sure you’re going to be ridiculous if I offer you something to drink as well, so I won’t bother,”

He sat next to Roman on the gilded love-seat, not touching but close enough that Roman could feel the air shift whenever he moved. He was still grinning, like this was the funniest thing that happened all week.

“Ask away,” he said, “I’m very curious as to what you’re going to start with,”

“You  _know_  me,” Roman blurted, horrified.

“That’s not a question,” the king chuckled, “But yes, darling, I know you very well. In more ways than one,”

Roman didn’t even want to  _think_  about the implications of that comment, especially paired with the very obvious once-over that accompanied it. His skin crawled.

“How?” he said desperately.

The Serpent King leaned over, still not touching, but just that made Roman want to recoil even as something mutinous in him demanded he lean into the other boys space.

“I am very generous,” he said, his cool breath fanning over Roman’s face, “This way, you serve me but you get to keep your silly mortal life,”

He laid his hand on Roman’s cheek, and Roman’s traitorous body automatically leaned into it before he could restrain himself.

“Every night,” he said softly, “From the moment your head touches your pillow until the sun rises at dawn, you are  _my_ Roman. My favorite knight – my champion,”

“And then in the day, you forget,” he said simply, “You go about your little life in your little town, blissfully unaware. It’s a very good system,”

Good system for  _who,_ Roman thought bitterly, because there was nothing  _blissful_  about living in terror of being abducted every day. But however weirdly affectionate the Serpent King seemed to be, Roman knew that would be an idiotic thing to say out loud.

But it made a sick sort of sense - Roman had known he’d lost time the morning the prince had woken, but  _this_? this was so much worse than anything he might have thought happening.

“I should have known you wouldn’t be able to stay away from me,” the king smirked, “Even without your memories in your pretty little head, your heart still knows who you belong to,”

Roman lurched backwards, leaning away over the arm of the seat behind him.

“I don’t belong to  _anybody_ , least of all  _you_ ,”

The king laughed.

“Then why are you here, Roman?” he asked, clearly delighted by Roman’s reticence, “If you thought yourself still free, is this not the worst place you possibly could have come to?”

Roman’s train of thought stumbled.

“Think about it,” the king continued, his voice mocking, “It’s really not a good plan at all. I might have forgotten entirely, and you showing up would have reminded me. Or I might have been insulted by your lack of patience,”

He kept moving forward as he spoke, until he was hovering over Roman, who was still leaning back slightly.

“You  _missed_  me, daring,” he teased, delighted, “Don’t worry. It’s endearing, if a little pathetic, how in love with me you are,”

Roman’s fear instantly twisted in on itself, turning acidic and furious.

“I am  _not_  in love with you!”he spat.

He wasn’t sure of much right now, but he knew  _that_  at least. Roman  _knew_  love – knew it in blonde curls and quicksilver eyes, in the sputter of an old truck and a clearing untouched by fear. He couldn’t possibly be in love with someone he was this  _terrified_ of. Whatever was drawing him to this  _snake_  was something else entirely.

It  _had_ to be.

“I wouldn’t love someone like  _you_ ,” he continued, and this time he didn’t even care that that was an incredibly stupid thing to say to the most powerful fae in the forest.

But the Serpent King just laughed again – he didn’t even move from where he was still hovering over Roman.

“Someone like  _me?_ ” he cooed. “Oh, Roman, darling.  _You_  are far more like  _me_  than you think,”

“What is  _that_  supposed to mean?””

“In fact, you’re probably more like me than the  _changeling_  is,” the king charged on as if Roman hadn’t spoken, “Your body may be mortal – but in your  _heart_ , you are one of  _us_. You have been since the moment I brought you here,”

“That’s not true,” said Roman, but his confidence was rapidly plummeting, because it wasn’t like the king could  _lie-_

The Serpent King seemed to be perfectly aware of Roman’s train of thought, grinning.

“You have delighted in all our games, all our tricks; you’ve led mortals into traps, had me lay curses on them or enchant them to amuse you-”

“No, I-” Roman could feel tears threatening, his throat closing, “I wouldn’t-”

“But you would,” the king cooed, “You already  _did_ ,”

Roman was trembling – he couldn’t stop, no matter how hard he tried, and he couldn’t seem to muster the strength to push the Serpent King off of him.

“Would you like to see?” said the Serpent King softly, “I wouldn’t lie to you, of course, darling, but maybe you should see for yourself,”

He would almost sound gentle, understanding, if it weren’t for the sickening smile on his face. He was  _enjoying_  this, Roman realized – delighting in Roman’s panic, in his uncertainty.

But- maybe the king was-  _misleading_  Roman, somehow, saying something technically true but hoping Roman was misunderstanding. Maybe if Roman saw for himself, he would see the trick.

Cautiously, he nodded.

The Serpent King smiled, running his hand up the side of Roman’s throat and face until his palm rested against Roman’s temple. Roman tried to restrain his shudder of revulsion and failed miserably.

“Close your eyes,” said the king.

Roman stared into the king’s mismatched irises, torn between his horrified curiosity and his terror at the idea of making himself so vulnerable, but there was only forward or back.

He definitely couldn’t go back.

He quickly scrunched his eyes closed and the Serpent King dug his nails into the side of Roman’s head. His body instantly went loose and pliant, his head tipping and his ears roaring, and then he fell.


	2. Chapter 2

_Roman was laughing, his head thrown back in mirth.  His hand reached out to shove the rider beside him._

_Roman watched, like he was seeing through his eyes from a long tunnel – it was him and yet not-him, familiar and totally alien at once. He wore the same silvery shirt he’d woken up in the day the prince was gone, a shining sword at his hip, and he could feel his face pulled up into a sharp and too-taut grin._

_He overbalanced, nearly falling out of the saddle, but he righted himself before he could face-plant in the dirt. His horse shifted sideways, irritated._

“ _Easy,” he said, patting the horses mane._

_His body turned, which was disorienting for the Roman on the inside, pinned and powerless to watch the memory through this stranger’s eyes. On his own horse, next to Roman, was the Serpent King, wearing black velvet and shining gold, his gaze heavy._

“ _Careful, Sir Roman,” he said, “I might think you dissatisfied with my company, the way you carry on with Belladonna,”_

_Roman’s face pulled up into an even wider grin, instantly reaching for the king’s hand, cradling it and bringing it to his lips._

“ _Who could ever grow weary of you?” he spoke with his lips pressed to the back of the king’s hand. “My love knows no ending, my king,”_

_His reward was an eye roll, but still an undeniably pleased one._

_The horses immediately in front of them came to a sudden stop, shuffling, and the leading knights let out peals of laughter._

“ _Look what we have!” cried one, “This should be fun,”_

_The king cleared his throat, and the two knights moved aside. The king’s horse stepped forward and Roman’s followed._

_In between the trees was a group of humans Roman didn’t recognize – from the look of their things, they were camping, probably from a city far enough away to have never heard the warnings about Wickhills. Two adults, the parents maybe, and a gaggle of children ranging from elementary school to Roman’s own age._

_The Serpent King tutted._

“ _Is there a reason you trespass in my kingdom, or did you merely decide you felt like dying today?” he said, bored. Roman pulled a knife out of his boot and began to pick his nails._

“ _Please, we- we didn’t know!” said the mother._

“ _Well, that’s hardly an excuse,” the king waved his hand as if to swat away her explanation._

“ _I suppose it works out,” he said, turning to Roman and grinning. “Haven’t given the abomination much to play with lately. These should keep it occupied,”_

“ _No,” said Roman._

_The king raised an eyebrow, face turning carefully blank._

“ _No?”_

_Roman smiled at him._

“ _Not really much of a punishment, is it?” said Roman, “They’d go senseless well before they really regretted it,”_

_The king shrugged._

“ _Fair, Sir Roman. Did you have an alternative?”_

_Roman looked down at the humans over the top of his horse’s head._

“ _Trees?” he offered. “They want to spend time in our woods so bad – let them be part of it. And they can stay here until some other mortal recognizes their true nature,”_

_Belladonna cackled next to him._

“ _That could take decades,” she said._

_Roman shrugged, laughing._

“ _Is that my problem? And it’s a nice clearing, I can see why they picked it. Who wouldn’t want to spend a few decades here?”_

_The king actually smiled then._

“ _Trees it is, then, darling. A good choice,”_

“ _Wait, please!”_

“ _Rest well,” said Roman brightly. He wiggled his fingers in a mockery of a goodbye as the Serpent King waved a hand._

_The air split with terrified screams and the sound of crunching bone and wood. Their bodies twisted and stretched. Their arms extended to the sky, their bodies thickening to trunks and their skin shriveling into bark. Roman watched, still smiling, until the screams petered off and the new trees stood, silent, the twisted faces of the humans barely recognizable in the whorls of the wood._

“ _Huh,” he said, the smile falling slightly, “They’re ugly,”_

_The Serpent King laughed._

“ _Last time it was animals, and you complained they weren’t distinctive enough. You’re never satisfied, are you?” he said, “Don’t worry, darling – I’ll make you as many pretty trees as you like,”_

_Roman perked up, leaning forward and smirking brazenly._

“ _I wouldn’t say I’m_ never _satisfied,” he purred._

_The Serpent King rolled his eyes once more, but he did lean in, muttering as he shook his head._

“ _Presumptuous thing,” he grumbled._

“ _Is it presumptuous when I know you want to kiss me anyway?” Roman said lightly._

“ _Only if you ask nicely,”_

_Roman pouted._

“ _Please kiss me?” he whined._

_The king gave him a perfunctory peck, but before he could retreat Roman threaded his fingers into the king’s hair and pulled him back, ignoring the obnoxious crowing around them and pressing forward-_

_-_ The king bit his lip reproachfully and Roman huffed in response.

“You seem fairly eager now,” the king muttered smugly against Roman’s mouth, which was about the time the fog cleared from Roman’s head and he realized this was very much  _no longer a memory._

He’d shifted onto his knees, his arms looped tightly around the king’s shoulders. The king, for his part, was smiling lazily, his hands resting on Roman’s waist, his fingers just under the hem of Roman’s shirt.

“Did you enjoy the memory?” he taunted.

Roman yanked his hands back from around the king’s neck, horrified, but all the king did in response was slide his hand further around Roman, under his shirt, and manhandle him until Roman was sitting fully in his lap, knees on either side of his hips. The fact that Roman could  _feel_  the muscle memory in this position made him want to throw up.

“Did you have any other questions?” the king said, drawing his free hand through Roman’s hair, “I’d be happy to let you in on more memories – I have some particular favorites,”

Roman couldn’t hold back the first sob, but he did manage to swallow the lump in his throat before he really started crying.

“Poor darling,” the king soothed, but the effect was someone lost by the gleeful expression on his face.

“No questions, then?” he said, “We can occupy ourselves in a variety of other ways,”

Roman squeezed his eyes shut, unable to keep looking at the king’s face, but all that did was bring the nightmarish memory back into razor-sharp clarity, his own voice calling for the  _torture_  of an innocent family, his lack of surprise at the mention of the monster-

… The monster.

The thing in the school this morning – it belonged to the king.

“What-” he started.

Roman was having trouble getting words out around the panicked pressure in his ribs, which increased with every back-and-forth swipe of the king’s fingers on his skin, but the king only smiled serenely.

“What?” he asked.

“Why did-” Roman cleared his throat, trying to find inside himself whatever part of- of  _Night-Roman_  that had made him sound so confident in that memory.

“Why did you set the monster on the school?” he said, and – even though it took some effort to do it without recoiling – he laid his hands back around the king’s neck.

But the king only tilted his head, confused.

“What are you talking about?” he laughed.

“The-” Roman hesitated, “The creature, your creature. This morning. You sent it to the school,”

The king laughed again, incredulous.

“You must be confused, darling,” he said, “I didn’t send it anywhere. It’s sleeping, somewhere in the woods,”

Roman’s heart seized.

“I was  _there_ ,” insisted Roman, “It was at the school. There was  _riot,_ what are you- people are in the hospital!”

The king shrugged.

“You know how humans are,” he said, “They kill each other all the time. They were probably bored,”

Roman flinched at the way the king said “humans” like he wasn’t _talking to one_ , but there were more important topics at hand than the fact that Roman might secretly be a monster.

“That  _thing_  was at my  _school_!” repeated Roman, and there must have been  _something_  of Night-Roman in him, because he had definitely just  _shouted_  at the  _Serpent King._

The king rolled his eyes, moving one hand from Roman’s waist up to his cheek.

“I  _assure_  you,” he said irritably, “You  _must_  be confused. I did not set the abomination on your little human town,”

He drew the hand back, making a fist and holding it in front of Roman.

“This ring,” he said tilting his head to the plain, matte-white band around his middle finger, “Is what controls the cursed thing, and it has not left my hand in decades. I did not send it to the school, and it would not have gone anywhere or done anything without my orders,”

He was  _wrong_ , Roman realized with dawning horror, but if he couldn’t be lying, then what? The monster had been at the school, but the Serpent King had no idea. And if the king hadn’t sent it…

The monster had come of it’s own accord, without an order. Somehow, the king had lost control of it.

Which was just about  _the_  worst case scenario.

“… Okay,” he said, because he knew there was no use trying to convince the king he was wrong when he was so adamant. And even if Roman did manage to persuade him, the king probably wouldn’t even care.

Roman must have been quiet for longer than he thought, because the Serpent King seemed to have checked out of the conversation completely. Instead he was winding strands of Roman’s hair around his fingers one at a time. He drew a line down the side of Roman’s neck, and Roman flinched. He  _knew_  the best way to keep the king talking would be to play along, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to be as far away from the king as physically possible, as  _quickly_  as possible.

The king sighed, exasperated.

“This is almost starting to get old,” he said, bored, “You usually have a lot more…” he huffed. “ _Spirit_ ,”

He sighed when he placed his hand on the side of Roman’s throat, leaning in as if to kiss him again, and when Roman’s whole body went rigid the king raised his eyebrows as if to indicate that exact thing.

“You’re not even fighting; you’re just… cowering. It’s a little pathetic, darling,”

Some bizarre combination of hot embarrassment and a near desperate desire to be accommodating and pleasant and  _don’t_ _let him_ _go, stay here, don’t leave-_

Luckily, thought the more rational part of Roman’s brain, the king couldn’t  _actually_  read his mind. He pushed Roman off of him, standing and then taking Roman’s hand again. He led him back over the curtain and pushed him slightly.

“Go, be merry, so on and so forth,” the king drawled, “Enjoy the revel. When you’ve slept, come back to me, and I’ll see about maybe getting you put back together. You’re really not much fun like this at all,”

He pushed Roman again, and Roman stumbled through the fabric. The roaring noise of the revel came back all at once, and the king gave a nasty smile. He turned away, dropping the curtain, and Roman was supremely grateful he’d done so before he could see Roman yank back the hand that tried to follow him.

“How’d it go, Charming?”

Roman recoiled. The knight – not the same one from earlier, but Belladonna, from the memory, was watching him with barely disguised glee.

“You aren’t supposed to be here,” she said, sing-song, “And showing up with the little cuckoo bird – there’s better ways to make your liege jealous, you know. That  _don’t_  involve getting the poor changeling executed,”

When Roman’s only response was an expression of abject horror, she tilted her head a little bit.

“What?” she said, “I thought you liked him?”

She moved to shove him lightly but Roman flinched out of her reach.

She jerked away from him, a little stunned.

“… Oh,” she said, “You’re-”

Roman nodded vigorously.

“Ah,” she said, “My mistake. Uh -forget what I said about executing the changeling – I don’t think the king’s quite as, uh,” she waved a hand around as if grasping for a word then snapped as she seemed to find it. “Possessive! Of  _you,_  as he is of our Roman. Could be totally fine,”

She gave him a sunny smile and patted his arm, like she genuinely though that was a comforting thing to say, and walked off. Which was good, because Roman was pretty sure if he’d tried to respond he would have thrown up.

He known all a long that coming here would be putting himself in danger. It hadn’t occurred to him it would drag Logan into it as well.

Roman picked his way through the clearing, desperately trying to dodge anyone who looked like they might be about to be friendly. He mostly succeeded, but a few got to him, clapping him on the back and trying to drag him into discussions that didn’t make sense but we’re just familiar enough to make him feel like he was supposed to know what to say.

It was so similar to the way the strange girl’s voice back in the woods had sounded – did she know Night-Roman then? Why was she so desperate to hide this from him?

He shook his head and extricated himself from the latest of these mind-numbingly frustrating conversations; he was getting frantic. Where was Logan? He wouldn’t have left, but Roman didn’t see him anywhere.

Cool fingers suddenly looped around his wrist and  _yanked-_ Roman didn’t have enough time to panic before he’d already been dragged to the edge of the clearing and behind a tree.

He blinked, looking down at Logan’s stormy, terrified expression.

“What did he do to you?” Logan demanded.

Roman had had very long evening – and an even longer week.

So really, even if it  _was_  pretty embarrassing, he didn’t think anyone could really blame him for bursting into tears.

* * *

Logan stared as Roman ducked behind the curtain, and he didn’t think he’d ever been so terror-stricken in his life. It was taking a significant amount of restraint not to barge across the clearing and through the curtain anyway. It was only the knowledge that, as weak a fae as he was – and as little control he had over his magic anyway – he was more likely to get both himself and Roman killed than manage anything actually helpful.

His skin itched – it always did at these things. Logan wasn’t quite sure, but he theorized that maybe the proximity to magic and other fae had a tendency to bring certain…  _tendencies_  closer to the surface.

He’d  _growled_  for goodness sake, like some kind of- some kind of animal. At the time he’d been too furious to care, but now that Roman was hopelessly out of reach of whatever base territorial instinct had possessed Logan, he was only profoundly embarrassed.

Maybe. He might also be a little afraid. Logan tried to give the people he loved as few opportunities as possible to remember he was a monster, but that had been a pretty spectacular slip.

“Hello, Raindrop,”

Logan sneered.

“Goodbye, Eirwen,” he replied, not waiting for her to respond before he started walking resolutely away.

Eirwen had long since stopped being irritated by Logan’s distaste of her, or his refusal to call her anything but her given name. Now she only found him amusing.

Logan actually preferred her angry.

“I see you brought a friend,” she said, following close behind him.

Logan’s vision flashed red with fury, and he barely restrained himself from launching at her. As it was, his shoulders only twitched.

She laughed, high and cold and painfully condescending. Logan considered shoving her into the fire – there was a possibility the other fae might find it funny, “Snowmelt” making someone  _else_  melt.

Logan cringed. That was another unsavory thing these revels brought out in him – an inclination to contemplate murder with much less moral outrage than was strictly acceptable.

Acceptable for human anyway.

“You know,” she taunted, “I didn’t actually know you were fond of that…  _particular_  mortal,”

Logan whirled on her, and this time he couldn’t restrain the guttural noise of sheer  _rage_  that bubbled up in his throat or swipe he took – and missed – at her face.

“ _ **Leave him alone!**_ **”**

She’d leaned out of his reach effortlessly, actually  _giggling._

“Or  _what?_ ” she said, “What will you do, boy?  _Growl_  at me?”

Logan’s face flushed, mortified.

“You probably need to find a replacement for him anyway,” she said, waving her hand. Her voice was light but the smile on her face was vicious and mocking, “I don’t think the Serpent King shares very well,”

Logan’s stomach felt like it froze solid.

“ _What the hell does that mean?_ ”

“Ask your little friend,” she said primly, “Careful though – you might not like the answer,”

She gestured toward the fire, and Roman was there next to it, clearly trying to extricate himself from the knot of fae around him. Logan didn’t even look back at Eirwen, moving as quickly as he could without running.

Roman startled when Logan grabbed him, but Logan’s first and most pressing concern was getting Roman as far away from the crowd as possible. Once at the edge of the clearing, Logan pulled him behind a tree – it was poor cover, and an even poorer shield, but it would have to do.

“What did he do to you?” Logan demanded.

There was a half-second of silence in which Roman looked down at Logan, a little stunned.

And then his face crumpled and he started sobbing.

Roman was the taller of the two of them, but it didn’t matter at this moment – he slumped forward, hiding his face in Logan’s neck, his arms tight around Logan’s ribs and hands scrabbling desperately at the back of Logan’s shirt.

After a moment of confused hesitation, Logan gently put his arms around Roman’s shoulders, tugging softly, pulling him down until they were both sitting on the forest floor, Logan’s back against the tree. Roman’s sobs didn’t even pause.

“It’s o-” Logan’s words stuttered and his arms tensed around Roman in frustration. Normally “okay” was vague enough that Logan could say it regardless of the actual state of the situation. But whatever was happening now, it obviously was  _not_ okay.

“ _Roman_ ,” Logan said, helpless. He laid one hand on top of Roman’s head.

Roman’s breath was coming in stuttering gasps against Logan’s neck.

“It will-” Logan’s throat tightened, but he concentrated, furious,  _willing_ himself to believe it, like he could make it true out of sheer tenacity.

“It will be okay,” he said, deliberate and precise.

Roman huffed – it may have been a laugh, but it also could have been another hiccuping sob. Either way, he seemed to be calming down.

Logan leaned his head on top of Roman’s. Humming was comforting, wasn’t it? Logan could hum.

He tried, but the noise he ended up making was less of a hum and more of an inhuman rumbling noise. He cut it off, flushing with embarrassment, but Roman either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care, which was a relief either way.

Roman’s cries continued to peter off, until he was only breathing a little heavier than normal. Slowly, he sat up, and Logan let him go even though every cell in his body hated it.

“Sorry,” said Roman thickly.

Logan shook his head firmly.

“Please do not apologize for being distressed,” he said. He hesitated, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. On the one hand, he certainly didn’t want to press Roman when he was this upset.

On the other, Logan’s head was filling with a variety of utterly _enraging_  potential explanations for Roman’s weeping, and his pulse was starting to roar in his ears.

“Are you hurt?” he blurted desperately.

Roman laughed shortly, a little hysterical.

“Not physically, no,”

The statement did nothing to mitigate the rapidly increasing boiling in Logan’s blood.

_I’ll kill him, what did he do to you, I swear it, I’ll kill him-_

Logan bit his tongue so hard he tasted blood.

“Roman,” he pleaded. “ _Please._ Tell me what is going on,”

Roman exhaled shakily.

“I can’t-” he started.

“You promised,” said Logan. He’d tried to sound firm, but instead he just sounded incredibly small.

“No, I mean-” Roman pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“I can’t- I can’t do it twice,” he said.

He moved his hands, giving Logan a wobbly smile.

“I just can’t,” he repeated. “I did promise, and I will, just – Patton, too, okay?”

Logan relaxed. That was fair, and very in-character.

“Very well,” he said, “I understand,”

Roman nodded, pulling up the hem of his shirt and wiping his face. He shivered.

“C’mon,” he said, “I’m freezing, let’s move a bit closer,”

Logan’s comfort evaporated.

“Move  _closer_  to the hoard of supernatural beings? That is indifferent at best and most likely hostile to both of us? Really?”

Roman rolled his eyes, and he seemed to be regaining some of his usual bravado.

“I didn’t mean dive in the middle,” he said dryly.

Logan gave him an unimpressed look.

Roman ignored it, standing and pulling Logan up with him. He  _didn’t_ actually get all that much closer. Just enough that it wasn’t quite so frigid, and they could hear faint snatches of conversation.

Logan could feel eyes on them where they sat on a rotting fallen log. He heard a few quiet strains of that  _stupid_  nickname and silently prayed Roman hadn’t heard it.

No such luck.

“Why do they call you that?” Roman asked.

“Call me what?” said Logan flatly, hoping Roman would take the hint that he  _very much_  did not want to talk about it.

“‘Snowmelt,’” said Roman, “They keep calling you that,”

Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s a joke,” he said wearily, “They are mocking me,”

Roman kept watching him expectantly, raising one eyebrow.

“I am-” Logan tried to figure out how to phrase it.

“You are familiar with the concept of Winter and Summer courts?” he said.

“Yeah, that’s pretty standard folklore curriculum, Niels Boring,”

Logan’s mouth nearly twitched into a smile, but he shook his head, pushing on.

“Eirwen is winter,” he said, “As am I. However, I was born very close to the spring equinox,”

He gestured to the clearing as a whole.

“I am quite possibly the least powerful fae here,” Logan sighed, “Pathetically so, I’m told. ‘Barely Winter’ is what Eirwen called me once. Hence ‘Snowmelt.’ It stuck,”

“Well  _that’s_  rude,” said Roman.

Logan couldn’t help the brief laugh that blurted out of his mouth.

“That is what you took away?” said Logan, “Not that I am near-powerless to help you if we get into some kind of disastrous situation, but that the denizens of the forest are  _unkind to me?_ ”

Roman bit the inside of his cheek, clearly trying not to giggle.

“Well, when you put it like  _that_  it sounds silly,”

Music started up, but Logan barely registered it over the swelling of fondness in his chest. He rolled his eyes, unable to keep the tenderness out of his voice.

“As always the arrangement of your priorities astounds me,”

Roman was silent, and Logan turned to rib him again – it had been a long time since they’d properly bantered; Logan hadn’t quite realized just how much he’d missed it, and he found himself eager to keep it going as long as possible.

But when he saw Roman’s face, he froze.

Roman was staring toward the fire – towards the music, towards the _dancing_  – and he was already standing, moving forward.

Logan leapt to his feet, planting himself between Roman and barely-forming circle at Logan’s back. He grabbed Roman’s face, trying to block the movement from his vision.

“Roman. Roman, listen to me.  _Roman_!”

Logan realized he was quickly edging towards hysteria, but there were  _so many fae_  here; Roman could step into the circle and easily vanish, and Logan would be powerless to retrieve him.

Logan was weak by fae standards, but he was still much stronger than most humans, so he did have a brief moment of bewilderment when he realized that his attempts to slow Roman down were having little to no effect. But it was quickly drowned out by his mounting panic.

Someone stumbled against Logan’s back, Logan actually snapped his teeth at her before he could stop himself.

Rather than retreat, the fae seemed delighted by this; she hummed a little laugh. She was smiling, her cheeks bright red but her mouth closed tight. Logan realized she was intoxicated.

She grabbed him by the tie, yanking him down and pressing their mouths together. Logan pulled one hand off of Roman’s shirt to shove her away.

She pouted, and Logan wiped his mouth. It was sticky, and far more wet than even a particularly sloppy kiss should be.

Three events happened in rapid succession.

The faint taste of elderberries bloomed on Logan’s tongue when he inhaled, and he realized the fae girl had tried to force the wine in her mouth down his throat when she kissed him. His stomach seized with panic, and he tried to shove Roman backwards, out of her reach.

He was too slow.

She pulled Roman down by the back of his neck, and since Roman was already half-delirious from the music and the circle, he didn’t put up even a token resistance when she opened her mouth.

She let him go, and Roman eyes opened, pupils blown wide as quarters, and he let out an airy, delirious laugh.

Logan stared, horrified.

“ _Fuck_ ,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman just cant seem to stay out of trouble. Can he?


End file.
